James' Day
by Princess Gillybean
Summary: Second year James Sirius Potter. The day of the quidditch tryouts. one shot next gen.


This was written for an English assignment. Enjoy.

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"James!" A voice hissed, breaking through the silence. James grunted and rolled over burying his face further into his pillow. "James? Are you awake?" It was louder this time, harder to ignore. James, grumbling, rubbed sleep from his eyes, twisted his head to glare at his friend, who had thrown his hangings open, letting the sunlight from the window stream in, near blinding him. "Merlin James, tryouts are today. What are you doing still in bed?" Conner asked peering at the boy, sprawled on his stomach, his neck bent in an odd twist so he could see who had woken him. His blankets were wrapped around him in a tight, albeit messy, cocoon, with only two limbs visible.

"Sleeping," James muttered and, in a last effort to deter Conner from his mission to get him up, pulled the edge of the blanket over his head. Conner reached over and yanked it hard. James was quickly unraveled and, with a startled yelp and a loud thump, he landed on the ground. Letting out a string of expletives that would've made Uncle Ron proud James grabbed Conner by the legs and pulled.

After a brief scuffle of which he proved victorious, James pulled his sweater, bright red with a gold J, over his tee shirt, the same one he'd slept in and worn the day before, and headed for the door. Conner untangled himself from the floor and followed.

"Aren't you nervous?" he asked when they arrived at the breakfast table. Most students had already finished and were trickling out of the Great Hall, drawn by the unusual sunny, although probably still cold, Saturday.

''Bout what?" James said through a mouthful of toast and eggs.

"Tryouts," Conner said, with slight exasperation. "You are trying out, aren't you? You've only been talking about it since first year."

''Yeah I am. What's that got to do with anything? They're not until this afternoon."

"But…" Conner shook his head, as if this would help him understand the mystery that was his friend, "Aren't you worried about it? What if you don't make it?"

"Why wouldn't I?" James looked astonished, the thought had obviously not occurred to him.

"You're only a second year. There are lots of students trying out. Older students."

"But I'm good."

"I know. I've seen you fly. But they're older..."

"What's that got to do with it?" James repeated, looking quite confused. Conner sighed and changed tack, "Well when you get on the team I hope they aren't annoyed that a second year beat them."

"You worry too much," James said decidedly.

"Well, someone has too," Conner muttered, and began piling his plate with a second helping of bacon. A companionable silence fell while to two boys ate with great gusto known only to a growing boy.

"So, Potter, planning on trying out today?" a voice drawled. James turned to see 3rd year Henry Little sneering across the table. He nodded before going back to his food.

"Well, good luck. You'll need it."

James rolled his eyes at Conner; Henry Little had something against him and had since the day James had arrived at Hogwarts the year before.

"Of course," Henry added spitefully, "You probably think you don't need it," When James didn't deny it, he continued, "I suppose you think you'll be chosen because of your father."

James looked taken a back, "What's Dad got to do with it?"

"Err I think he means that they'll let you on the team because your dad saved the world," Conner replied glaring at Henry.

"Oh," he gave Henry a look that gave the distinct impression he thought he was a complete idiot. "But that doesn't have anything to do with quidditch."

"I meant they are going to favour you because you're James Potter," Little spat.

"Well James Potter is quite a good quidditch star name, don't you think?" James looked thoughtfully at Conner, who nodded. "Yeah it's got that famous ring to it. Sort of name people can chant from the stands easily."

"That's what I thought."

"Maybe Little reckons they'll think that's an important quality in Gryffindor Chasers? Though personally I would find an ability to throw a quaffle and score higher up on my list of requirements."

"Yeah, me too, but since I can do that too I guess I really don't need to worry."

"Guess you don't," Conner smirked at Little's retreating back then laughed. "Merlin he's a...." he trailed off as James raised an eyebrow and nodded his head slightly to the left.

"...charming fellow."

"Glad to hear you speaking well of your fellow house mates." The two boys smiled innocently up at Professor Longbottom.

"Well, of course Unc...Professor. What else would you expect us to do, when we are blessed with such admirable, delightful and..."

"Alright James, that's enough adjectives. Finish up eating, the House Elves will be wanting to clear breakfast soon." As he walked away he called over his shoulder, "Good luck at tryouts."

"Don't need it." James said, scarfing down the rest of his plate before standing.

"You are awful confident," Conner commented, also rising. "Arrogant bastard."

James shot him a cocky grin, "Let's go see if we can find The Room of Requirement."

"What in daytime?"

"Everyone's outside so we won't run into people. Where isJason?" James suddenly noticed the absence of the third part of their trio.

"Said something about homework." The two boys looked at each other in abject horror.

"We really don't need to go to the…" Conner made a face, "The Library. And it'd take ages to convince him to come anyway."

"We've narrowed it down quite a bit already; we can do some without him," James suggested. Deciding this was the best course of action, they headed in the opposite side of Hogwarts, far away from the dreaded library. They had been trying to find the legendary Room of Requirements since first year, when James, having appropriated the Marauder's Map from his father, had discovered that a few key pieces of information had been missing from his parents stories. The location of the room which could become whatever you needed and whose location was secret. His father was convinced that the Room no longer existed, that the fiend fire during the Battle of Hogwarts had destroyed it for good but James was unconvinced, and had set on a mission to discover it. Having no clear idea where about he could find the Room, he and his two friends had spent many hours of the night, hidden beneath James' invisibility cloak – another family heirloom, this time honestly come by- wandering the castle in search of the mysterious Room. In the two years they had been trying, they had not once discovered the Room, They had, however, discovered many other secrets, ones that had perhaps not been there in the time of their parents, created through the destruction of the War or perhaps secrets even older, rediscovered.

A loud grumble echoed down the hall, Conner looked sheepish.

"Want to go to lunch?" James asked, rubbing his own stomach. "I'm well hungry." Slightly discouraged they headed down toward the Great Hall. The two boys had spent most of the morning roaming the corridors on the fourth floor, with no luck. James ate more food then usual, piling his plate high, and barely pausing to talk. When he'd finished, he headed to the pitch with a slight detour upstairs to collect his broom.

Soon he stood in the line with several other students while the Captain explained how tryouts would be held. First they would be flying around the pitch to beginning a process of elimination, then each player left would play a quick game (get to 50 points) with the two team chasers and Keeper. When the whistled blew James rose quickly into the air, and was off in his own world; the wind blowing through his hair, the feel of air whipping his face and robes as he sped around the pitch. He could never feel anything but happy when in the air. Everything else just fell away.

"Ok, guys, hit the showers! Results will be posted tomorrow morning in the common room," the captain called after an hour.

"That 4th year was pretty good," Conner said thoughtfully through a mouthful of chicken and the din in the Great Hall.

"No. He won't get on," James interrupted,

"Scored off every shot," Conner argued.

"Did you see the way he caught the quaffle the second time? And he obviously has to really think about each shot before he takes it. He's fast that's why he scored, he got away with it but if you can't shoot on instinct, you won't make it in a real game."

"Well, how about Felix? He was pretty good," Jason, the boy who actually did his homework,put in.

"Completely failed that set up. They won't let him on. "

"It was one thing."

"If you can't work with the other players there is no point playing."

"James is an expert at this, really they should get him to chose," Jason laughed. James narrowed his eyes, but all he said was, "I would say my only competition was that Drew guy."

"Who was that?"

"Third year, quiet. Strong arm, good instinct, no technique but that can be worked on if he has the basis, which he does."

"Where as James has all that and technique, so they'll choose him."

"I reckon," James said, as the other two rolled their eyes. "I'm not up myself…"

"…much" Conner interjected and James punched his arm.

"I'm not, but I know quidditch, that's the decision I'd make if it were my team."

"Yeah yeah. We know mate, we're just saying, you're…" He looked at Jason searching for the right word.

"Confident?"

"Yep that's it…very bloody confident."

"Some times too confident?" Jason smirked.

"And just a tiny bit bigheaded…" Conner broke off, jumping up from his seat and sprinting out of the Great Hall, James hotly on his heels, his shouts of "I AM NOT!" echoed through the corridors.

Hours later, the second year Gryffindor boys trudged into their dormitory, utterly exhausted; James tugged off his sneakers and flopped down onto the bed, ignoring his dorm-mates chatter around him. He pulled the curtains around him, closing his eyes before his head had even hit the pillow. Within moments, he was fast asleep, slipping into dreams of soaring through the air, the wind rushing around him. The crowed chanting his name, over and over.

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